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by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Series: unspoken [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Cuddling, Gen or Pre-Slash, IgNoct, M/M, Melancholy, Mild Angst, One Shot, Pining, ignis has a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: On a grey morning in a rundown hotel, Ignis wakes up next to his sleeping prince.





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**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat of a follow-up or companion piece to "warmth", but it isn't necessary to read that to understand this.

The glow through the curtains was still thin and pale, a pre-dawn haze filtered by grey clouds, when Ignis’ body woke at the usual hour. Many years of rigid schedules had rendered him unable to sleep past six outside of the most dire of circumstances, even when the previous night had run late, as this one had. And so he lay blearily, orienting himself in the waking world, before he ventured to move. The bed was once again unfamiliar, sheets rough and the mattress somewhat creaky. In his current state, however, it was far more appealing than anything that might exist outside of bed. Cool morning air nipped at his ears, and his hair tickled slightly where it was plastered to his face. There was an ache in his shoulder, his arm pinned and dead. He grunted and tried to flex unresponsive fingers.

The cause of this current dilemma could be seen in the birdsnest of black hair that lay a few inches from his face. His prince slept like a corpse, heavy and unyielding. And, since a certain late night conversation a few weeks into their journey, invariably next to him.

Not that he minded. It made the divvying up of beds easy. Noct was warm and relaxed and smelled pleasantly of something familiar and unnameable under the clean scent of shampoo and laundry, something that ached of childhood. Boyish yet with a hint of something sharper and masculine now. His sides rose and fell in a steady rhythm. His heartbeat hovered on the edge of awareness, neither exactly heard nor felt, but certainly there. His presence was a simple comfort.

The growing light began to fall across Noct’s face and hair, laying stark the contrast between black bangs and pale skin, rumpled with sleep. Lovely, and all on a dreary morning in a rundown roadside motel. What a wonder he would surely be, when he took his rightful place. But he would stand before and belong to the whole world then, in that uncertain future, at the end of a dangerous road.

That was the terror that hitched in Ignis’ chest. The happiness of the present moment was abruptly a cause for fear, because it could not last. He could not allow himself to become used to this, to expect it, to desire it, to want more than this. A goal he was already failing at.

He knew he should pull himself away. He wanted to hold on tighter. He became aware of his pulse fluttering in his veins, the anxiety that flooded through him like cold water.

And the man in his arms stirred.

“I didn't mean to wake you."

“...s fine…” came the inarticulate response, “Gonna go… back… sleep.”

“May I have my arm back first?”

There was a grunt and a shuffling over. Ignis freed his arm and winced at the pain when the blood flow returned, how could it be this agonizing? He rolled onto his back, flopping his dead arm across his forehead, and stared up at the ceiling.

“We're heading to Caem soon.”

Another grunt, or was it a snore?

“Needless to say, the terms of the peace treaty no longer apply. But do you still wish to marry the Lady Lunafreya?”

A groan. “Specs, do we have to do this now?”

“...You're right. I apologize.”

He should get up. Drink his coffee and start making breakfast. Let Noct rest. Once he shook off the eerie light of the half-dawn, these thoughts would calm themselves. The dread balling in his chest would dissipate, once the sun was up. But he couldn't help himself.

“I just...fear that I might lose you...”

His voice creaked, quiet and yet stark in the dim room. Noct rolled over to look at him, though not without a sigh of great effort.

“Pretty sure I'm still gonna need an advisor if I get married.”

“I suppose that is true.”

“Come on, we've been together since we were kids. You think I’d just give you up like that? Like, ‘thanks for everything, goodbye’?” Noct’s eyes were definitely open now, and his voice no longer creaked with sleep. He heaved himself up onto one elbow.

“I… no. That's not it.”

“Then what is?"

It was not like Ignis to fumble with words, and yet he did, stopping and restarting as Noct stared at him in bleary confusion. Finally he managed,

“You're the dearest person in the world to me.”

“Specs.”

“And I… I’m rather sure I'm not the dearest person in the world to you. You have your fiance, your Oracle, with whom you share a destiny. You have your best friend, Prompto, to spend time with. And I… well, I live to serve, but sometimes I feel rather more like a nag.”

He laughed, a small and hollow sound in the bare room.

“Of course, I'm happy for you. Don't ever think that I'd want you to be alone, or that I'd ask you to distance yourself from them. It's just… when we were small… we had each other. Just the two of us. And if I didn't have you...”

He took a deep breath.

“It hardly bears thinking about.”

He felt a hand reach up, brushing the stray hair from his face.

“Look at me.”

That was a command, not a request. Something in his chest leapt at the words, and he followed willingly, into the touch on his cheek and the gaze of pale eyes. It was sweet and right to obey.

“Don’t do this. I don’t wanna talk like anyone is the  _ most _ important to me. I need all of you. I can’t do this alone.”

“Yes, highness.”

Noct made a quiet snorting sound, perhaps at being addressed by such a title in a dingy hotel room, adorned with only their mud-streaked clothing from the previous day. He leaned in, burying his face in Ignis’ shoulder, and it was Ignis’ turn to reach out and stroke his hair, to wrap an arm around him.

“You see?” Noct mumbled, the movement of his lips brushing against Ignis’ collarbone, “See, Ignis…”

There were no words for what he was meant to see, but he saw it nonetheless. “Yes,” he whispered, burying his face in Noct’s hair and breathing deeply, allowing himself a barely perceptible press of lips on his crown. Cool fingers brushed against his shoulder, and Noct’s grip tightened around the back of his neck. The faint rectangle of light from the window had moved, creeping up over their legs and feet, to cast a glow on the greying sheets that entangled them. Dust that twisted idly in the stale air caught the sun, stirring when either of them took a breath. Even though he saw true magic every day of his life, somehow these mundanities were enchanting.

Noct pulled back, taking one of Ignis’ hands in his own, a smile on his face. Ignis would do anything for that smile. He wondered again at how he could deserve to see it now, when he had done nothing in particular, and resolved that he must earn it. Ah, but Noct deserved every second of happiness, he would not question this.

Something— a sound, a movement— inevitably broke the trance. The moment could not endure forever. There was a day was waiting to begin.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Noct said, then yawned widely, flopping back onto the bed and rolling over. “m’gonna… go back to sleep,” he mumbled in the direction of the wall. “Nnh... wake me when breakfast is done.”

“Of course,” Ignis said, to the curled lump of blankets that had already replaced his prince. His bare feet padded on the linoleum as he entered the kitchenette. The faucet and drain were surrounded by discoloration, and traces of something were charred onto the stove-top from whenever someone had last ventured to use it, possibly during the last war. There was an ancient, shriveled sponge and three-eighths of an inch of congealed dish soap. Marvelous.

Of course, he had brought his own cooking equipment in the previous night, and he set about making the space into one that could acceptably come into contact with food. Soon the kitchen was filled with the aroma of coffee and the sound of sizzling eggs. Light fell through the slatted blinds, streaking the room with alternating shadow and light, and he snuck a backward glance at the dark-haired figure, peaceful and safe in their bed. 

For today, at least, the clouds had cleared.


End file.
